Face it, my stuff has no value

I would like to thank Antiques Roadshow for showing me that all my possessions are worthless.

The premise of Antiques Roadshow as a television program is simple. People haul in antiques and old items of various vintage in hopes of finding that the object they’ve owned — and likely used as a doorstop — “all these years” is actually worth a large or small fortune.

Watching the program recently, I thrilled along with a woman informed that an old family heirloom rug was actually handmade and quite rare. The price tag was staggering.

I immediately looked down. Nothing. Unless Lowe’s Discount Home Collection c. 1998 is a collectible, I think we’re OK to keep walking — and spilling drinks — on the rug we have.

Heirloom

It’s not that we don’t have family heirlooms lovingly handed down through the generations. It’s just the things we hold on to are so unusual — and not in a valuable way.

My grandmother once identified a threadbare towel that we were still using as one she had received as a wedding gift — in 1947. We are proud to report that a 60-plus year old towel lives on in our cupboards today. Where other families have heirloom quilts, I have an heirloom bathroom accessory. You should see my 1930s toilet brush. (Just kidding. Barely).

Over on American Pickers (yes I watch a lot of television, what of it?) they are forever hauling some treasure out of a barn or backyard shed. Meanwhile, I’ve got 6,000 square feet of barn space and I’m just itching to discover buried treasure.

Unless petrified squirrel carcasses have suddenly skyrocketed in value, I’m not sure we are going to be getting rich quick — or any other way.

Elbow grease

I did haul some old apple crates out of the barn once. It took about a week of scrubbing, soaking and drying in the sun before we could get a good look at them. Wooden, faint lettering, cute.

A quick search of the Internet showed that I had spent a week of elbow grease, and at least $10 in pressure washing and cleaning to rescue a fruit crate worth about five bucks. At this rate I’ll be a millionaire … never.

I further have a bone to pick with our local auctioneers. Why are you not selling me $25 prints that turn out to be worth $25,000? Are you holding out on me?

It appears I’m too cheap to ever get rich. As if I would ever pay more than $2.50 for a print. $25 would be outlandish to me.

Not happening

I know I will never discover that my $40 yard sale card table is worth $40,000 and it’s my own darned fault. I’m too cheap to have ever paid $40 for a used card table in the first place.

Why can’t I just find a $10,000 teacup like those lucky saps on TV?

Until then, I can make someone a really great deal on an authentic “vintage” bath towel. Only $25,000! Who’s buying?

About the Author

Warm, witty and just a wee bit warped, Kymberly Foster Seabolt is a native of Kent, Ohio, who survived childhood exposure to disco and grew up to marry and move to the country. Her column weaves her special brand of humor with poignant, entertaining, and honest portrayals of parenting, marriage, and real life. She currently lives in northeastern Ohio with her husband, two children, two dogs, two cats, and numerous dust bunnies who wish to remain nameless. More Stories by Kymberly Foster Seabolt

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